


Put That In Your Pipe

by almost_teacup



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Accidental pipe-weed, Accidental smoking, Crack, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 22:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11701596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almost_teacup/pseuds/almost_teacup
Summary: "Have you seen Bri?" He asked."I don't know, I don't keep track, teacup." Hang on. Did she just called him teacup? Was this a term of endearment anywhere but in her own mind?------Elrond is looking for Celebrian. Instead, he finds Galadriel, accidentally smoking a type of pipe-weed that has some strange effects.





	Put That In Your Pipe

He happened on Galadriel while she sat, smoking a pipe, under a tree in the garden. Well, perhaps _sat_ wasn’t the right word. She was half-sitting, half-laying on a stone bench, just upright enough that she could inhale from her pipe properly. This was a little odd. However, Galadriel was older than the moon, so she had the right to be a little odd. She did look slightly dazed, though. 

He’d never known Galadriel to look dazed. He’d never even seen her tired. He assumed, in the way a child assumes their parents are invincible, that she didn’t get tired. Ah, well. Maybe he’d happened upon her in a calmer state. From what Bri had told him, she could probably do with some extra calm in her life. Which reminded him, again, why he’d found her in the first place: she was easier to find than her daughter, who had a tendency to take solitude near water or in trees.

Sometimes he would find her, and he could tell it was all right to meet her where she was, and sometimes, he left silently, aware that she wished to be alone, and waited for her to find him elsewhere. 

Galadriel waved to him slowly. This was also rather odd. She was moving as though she was underwater (or, he realized, as though she thought she was underwater). He couldn’t be sure, but it was possible—well, he would wait to assess that until he was certain. But in his experience Galadriel wouldn’t sit like that, practically sleeping in a public place. And she didn’t wave _._ She was too dignified for that sort of thing. 

But she _was_ older than the moon, so he waved back, and called a greeting to her. 

“Have you seen Bri?” he asked when he got a little closer.

“I don’t know, I don’t keep track, teacup.” Hang on. Did she just call him teacup? Was that a term of endearment anywhere but in her own mind? Had he suddenly entered some parallel universe, like the ones Mithrandir sometimes theorized about?   
“You can track on things,” she continued, “and cats, and dogs, and books, but _not on people._ ” She said this adamantly, and then gestured in dismissal of that thought, which was apparently perilous and terrible to her. He couldn’t help but notice that her words, though he’d surely hit a nerve, were a little fuzzy around the edges. 

“I didn’t mean to offend—” he stuttered. Maglor, storyteller that he was, had alluded in tales of Valinor to his aunt’s protectiveness, but Elrond had never thought much of it. Apparently Galadriel had. 

She laughed quietly. “Be still, Perri. You’re an absolute sunshine,” she paused to nod, apparently trying to make her affirmation stick before she continued. “Truly are, but you’ll wake up the flowers if you talk loud like that.”

“ _What?_ ” 

Something wasn’t right. 

“They’re sleeping.” She said this quite dramatically, yawned, and then thought for a few minutes. “This reminds me of Aman. I used to sit on Uncle Fëanor’s porch swing. Nel—your Ada Maedhros, chickadee—he’d give me coffee out the kitchen window.”

Something definitely wasn’t right. First of all, the thought of Maedhros handing Galadriel a cup of coffee out of a kitchen window was insane. Second, it was insane. And finally, if the situation wasn’t insane, the sight of Galadriel staring at the sky and recounting it, along with her parenting philosophies, was. 

“What—ah,” It had occurred to him that she might be somewhat altered. After all, he had some experimental things growing in the greenhouse lately, and that perhaps she’d encountered them when seeking a smoke. “My lady, what’s in your pipe?”

“Oh, I am sorry,” she grinned, somehow still completely unperturbed and still sprawled awkwardly on the bench. “I borrowed it out of your big room. The _big_ one. The big glass—” she broke out in a fit of laughter. 

“The greenhouse?”

“Is it really very large and made of glass?”

“Yes.” 

“Then yes.”

In real life, which it seemed like this wasn’t, Galadriel certainly knew what a greenhouse was. And thankfully, he knew what she’d gotten hold of—he was drying something from the ceiling of the room that looked exceptionally like pipe-weed, but had rather different effects. It wasn’t dangerous, and it wore off easily enough, and so it would be only a matter of time before Galadriel was back to her usual self again, thinking less of porch-swings and coffee and more of the council matters she’d come here for in the first place. 

It was at this moment that Celebrian chose to cross the garden, forsaking the fountain she’d been meditating near in search of company. 

“Daughter! My dear daughter.” She waved again. 

Celebrian briefly widened her eyes at Elrond, to which he gave her a reassuring squint and a shake of the head. The entire exchange took about a second— _is she in danger? No._

“Um—” Celebrian seemed at a loss. “Would y’all like some tea, or something?”

“Green tea?” A ray of bright hope shone in Galadriel’s eyes. “It kinda tastes like grass but also— _also,_ it kinda tastes like— _grass._ ” There was pure wonder in her face now at the fact that this was possible, as though Yavanna herself had come and bestowed green tea, this silent conversation with the grass, upon them. Which, really, she had. 

Bri nodded and leaned a little closer to Elrond. 

“What do we do?”

“Nothing but wait.”

So she walked off to fetch some tea, while Elrond gently coaxed the pipe away from her mother so she didn’t inhale any more of the stuff. 

And so they spent the afternoon together, waiting until Galadriel returned to herself. 


End file.
